Yes, the playoffs are tonight. Is it football? Baseball? Hockey?
No, it's the Golden GLobes.
Yes, I said Golden Globes, and for a lot of women, these are the playoffs leading to the Oscars. The Oscars are our Superbowl.
I've watched the Oscars with a boyfriend once. He tried to turn the channel during a commercial, and my eyes flashed red, horns jutted out of my head, and fire balls came out of my mouth.
"Don't you dare turn that channel," I said as my head spun around 6 times.
"But it's a commercial? Ok...Ok...I'll turn it back," he said, obviously fearing for his life.
You never let them have the remote, because once they start channel surfing they sometimes have a hard time getting back to the beach.
So most of the other years a couple of my closest girlfriends and I watch The Playoffs (Golden Globes) and The Superbowl (Oscars) together. It is much safer for the men in our lives this way.
Now I'll admit that the whole award's show thing has went down the tubes lately, but we have something that makes up for it. Coverage of the red carpet, which is what we want to see anyway. The dresses. The hair. The bling.
Last year we saw Charlize Theron score a touchdown with her beautiful peach dress, and our mouth's were agape as we stared in shock as the ever popular Nicole Kidman came strutting down the red carpet is some horrid flapper costume, complete with gold sequence. It's so not like Nicole to fumble. What a let down.
J-Lo recovered from the Affleck injury and glided down the red carpet in a beautiful goddess of a dress, but was stuck on the 5 yard line with boring hair that looked like how I do mine when I'm going to clean.
As we pondered how high Scarlet Johnason's breasts could get, why Barbara Streisand had on a huge fur coat in Southern Cali, and if Diane Keaton knew it was past 1977, we bonded in a way women can only bond while revealing in expensive designer dresses and jewelry. We cheered a slimmed-down Queen Lahtifa, who was the MVP that year for sure.
So tonight this year's playoffs begin. My friend's R and H are coming over, along with my niece. We'll laugh, we'll cry. We'll wonder what the hell Bjork is going to wear this year.
We won't be jealous, oh no we won't, because we'll realize that while they are incredibly rich, famous, and are wearing dresses that cost as much as our vehicles, they can't sit on the couch like us eating ice cream and pizza. Oh, and cookies and chips.
There might even be a couple of margaritas or some other similar fruity, frozen, girly drinks involved. We shall sit in our track pants with our hair in ponytails, watching this spectacle and consuming more calories in one night then most of these celebs eat in one week.
I heart the Woman's playoff season...